


Worries as Big as the Moon

by AdmiralSweko



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluffy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, forced cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 13:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdmiralSweko/pseuds/AdmiralSweko
Summary: After being teleported across the universe by the Vault of the Traveler, Rhys and Fiona are one step closer to getting home.  Exhausted, they settle inside their shared crew berth aboard a cargo ship. Before the night is through, they will each, in time, succumb to their underlying emotions.





	Worries as Big as the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Bed sharing trope with a twist!

Rhys didn’t understand why he was so nervous. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he told himself he was being irrational. This wasn’t the first time he and Fiona had slept in the same space. ‘And we don’t even have to share a bed,’ he added. 

Bunk beds, although not normally ideal for someone of his height, were still better than sleeping on the hard floor, which he was sure she would have forced him to do, instead of sharing. Although, he was grateful that it wouldn’t be necessary to test that theory, he simply couldn’t shake this unexplained bout of nerves.

Fiona was standing in the tiny bathroom attached to their cabin. Even though her back was to him as she brushed her teeth, he felt it was safe to assume from the relaxed stance she held, she wasn’t plagued by a similar apprehension. But from her reflection in the tiny mirror, he could tell she was exhausted by the dark smudges under her half-closed eyes. 

Finding themselves teleported by the Vault of the Traveler onto a planet on the other side of the universe from Pandora, the pair had been working tirelessly, trying to find a way home. Through teamwork and ingenuity, despite their occasional bickering, they had managed to find a cargo ship that was heading in a direction that would bring them closer to Pandora. Fiona’s skills as a con woman came in handy, as she had been able to talk her way into getting them on the ship, which normally didn’t transport passengers. With what money they had in their pockets and the meager amount Fiona had managed to pickpocket off of the drunks crowded in the local bars, they had scraped together just enough to entice the captain of this vessel to allow them the use of a crew berth with room for two. It wasn’t much but it felt good to be making progress on their goal of getting home.

Surveying the tiny space, Rhys thought maybe it was the close proximity of the room that had put him on edge.The berth was so narrow that the bunk had to be pressed against the wall lengthways to leave access to the bathroom. Being confined together like this might have been what was getting to him. He wasn’t a big fan of small areas to begin with but having to share with Fiona wasn’t exactly optimal. She had a way of taking up the space she was in, her presence sweeping over and affecting all around her. He’d first noticed that magnetism when they were travelling together in the caravan; he would find his attention drawn to lingering upon her. 

Additionally, since teleporting to the other side of the galaxy, they’d had only each other to rely on, the other person being the single familiarity in this strange new world. Admittedly, his feelings for her had grown more…complicated. It could be that those heightened notions of camaraderie, trapped in this tiny room, pressing against the walls, were what was making him uncomfortable. 

Shaking that idea out of his head, he concluded that he was just overthinking things. In truth, his apprehensiveness probably stemmed from simple exhaustion. He was quite tired too. 

Rhys was pulled out of his analysis by the sound of the bathroom faucet running. Fiona, done brushing her teeth, was now rinsing her brush and mouth. After shutting off the tap, she came shuffling into the berth, barely awake. Even as tired as she was, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Fatigue softened her expression, lending an appearance of vulnerability. Seeing her like this, he felt an involuntary pang of protective concern tempered by a healthy dose of attraction that did nothing to ease his already frazzled nerves.

Her full lips pursed as she shrugged off her jacket and hung it off the hook protruding from the wall opposite the beds. Her hat was next, placed atop the jacket on the same hook. As she moved about removing her belts and bracers, he felt a strange sensation flitter through him. He realized suddenly that he had never seen Fiona without her jacket on, that she had always been covered by multiple layers of clothes. There was a captivating sense of intimacy, watching her undress. He blushed, overwhelmed. Abruptly, he got to his feet, and turned away. Although she was the one shedding clothing, it was he who felt naked, exposed. 

But he couldn’t resist; just like all those times before, he was drawn to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her over his shoulder and saw that she had removed her waistcoat and was now leaning forward. With her lower back against the wall for support, she pulled her boots off, one by one. He purposely ignored the peek of skin that showed through the cutout of her blouse as she bent over, scolding himself for how much of a lech he was already proving to be in the amount of voyeurism he was currently engaged in. Her position and the absence of her vest, however, were adding up to be an almost undeniable temptation, but he refrained. He was certain that if he glanced even for just an instance, his brain would melt and leak out of his ears.

Completely oblivious to his mental anguish, Fiona hadn’t acknowledged that he was even in the room. With a soft thud, her boots landed on the floor below her coat, socks soon to follow. Now she was barefoot. He distracted himself by glancing at her feet, which seemed an innocent enough thing to focus on. He noticed her toenails were painted the same bright shade of turquoise as her fingers. He’d always been intrigued by her choice to wear nail polish and the subtle touch of femininity it added to her appearance . When they had first met, she hadn’t seemed the type for such frivolous details.

Standing in just her blouse and slacks, her attention shifted to him. When she caught his eye, he coughed and tried to pretend he hadn’t just been checking her out. Fear curled in his belly as he was sure she had caught him. But she simply blinked blearly before she yawned. On the exhale, she spoke, “Tahp or bawtum?” 

He turned to face her, swallowing around the lump in his throat and asked, “What?”

He hoped she hadn’t noticed how hoarse his voice was. As another large yawn twisted through her, a hand came to cover her mouth; her other beginning to tug the tail of her blouse out of its tuck in her pants. His eyes fell to her waist and his mind went completely blank. When she could speak clearly again, she clarified, “Top or bottom bunk, which do you want?” 

“Huh? Oh. Uh. Whichever is fine.” He shrugged, trying to be casual. 

“Okay,” she mumbled, and then made her way up the short ladder to the top portion of the bunk bed. With a thump and a slight creak of the frame, she collapsed face down. 

Rhys hesitated for a moment, misplaced in the quiet that followed, uncertain what to do next. The soft sound of her breathing deepened as she fell asleep. 

Quickly, the tension that had bunched up in his shoulders relaxed. He let out a sigh of his own. With the rough rasp of desire no longer holding him hostage, exhaustion was quick to flood in, making him dizzy. Suddenly feeling sluggish, he slowly repeated Fiona’s earlier actions, brushing his teeth and peeling off any unnecessary articles of clothing. Down to his shirt and slacks, he lowered the lighting of the room to dim and crawled into the bottom bunk. Thankfully, the length of the bed seemed to be just long enough for him, with no chance of his feet hanging off the edge. 

Stretching out on his back, he stared up at the base of the top portion of the bunk. As he let his mind wander, he reflected upon the actions and decisions that had brought him here. Years ago, when he was a freshman in college, he never could have imagined that he would one day wind up CEO of an, admittedly defunct, mega corporation or that he’d be planet-hopping with a beautiful but maddening con woman. The idea of it brought a smile to his lips as his eyes shut and he slipped into sleep. 

* * *

His stomach was in knots.The palm of his left hand was damp with sweat, and his right flexed continuously. His skin felt too tight and flushed, like his blood was running too close to the surface. Seated in an opulent modern office, he was alone at the moment, but he knew not for long. The CEO would soon join him because it was at his request that Rhys was here. 

Handsome Jack, himself. Rhys’ hero! 

He truthfully couldn’t tell if his reaction stemmed more from excitement or terror. Taking a deep breath, he tried to stop the shaking of his hands by gripping the tops of his knees. 

“Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie.” 

Rhys jumped as the deep disapproving voice echoed off the walls, bouncing back and propelling him into a panic. 

“Sir?” he croaked; his mouth was as dry as the Pandoran desert. 

“I hate to say it but I’m really disappointed in you, Rhys.” 

His stomach dropped. Pulling at his collar, he looked around, but he was still alone in the cavernous office. 

A chill ran down his spine as the voice continued. “I saw such potential in you, you know. I mean, we were going to do great things together, you and I. But noooo. You had to throw it all away. Wouldn’t play along, had to be a hero.”

The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere, filling Rhys’ ears, pounding through his head. Fear trapped him, making him immobile. Utilizing all his strength, he battled against the oppressive weight and managed to get to his feet. He turned, searching for a way out. 

He looked around in shock. The office was in shambles, debris everywhere. The tall windows were cracked and shattered, glass shards littering the floor. There were pieces of ceiling jutting out unnaturally from above, cables hanging down in tangles. Smoke curled through the air as flames flickered at the edge of his vision. 

With a jolt, he recognized the setting from when he had awoken after Helios crashed. Deep inside, he now knew that this was all a dream, one of his recurring nightmares. The knowledge offered no comfort, however; he was still weak with terror. 

“You thought you could destroy me, pumpkin? Crush me like some bug?” the voice boomed, cocksure and deafening. “Did you really think I’d let that slide?”

Pain burst behind Rhys’ left eye and through his temple, half blinding him. Overwhelmed, he collapsed to his knees, his hand cradling his face as the agony intensified. 

He could feel the presence of Handsome Jack throughout his body, slithering under his skin, pulsing through his mind, trying to wear him down. He resisted the intrusion, battling back the bile that rose in his throat. Cruel laughter echoed, knifing through Rhys’ skull. 

“You can’t fight me, Cupcake. I mean, it’s fun when you try but we both know I’m going to win. Wanna know why?” Jack’s voice lowered to an ominous conspiratorial buzz, “Because I got nothing but time on my side. I’m always going to be here, Rhysie, waiting just below the surface for that perfect moment. You know the one; when you think you’re safe, when you think you’ve found a tiny crumb of happiness, when you’ve forgotten all about me, that’s when you’re mine. I’m gonna take over this pathetic meat suit of yours, crawl in, and make myself at home, nice and comfortable.” 

Rhys was powerless, paralyzed in frigid horror, as his right hand, moving on it own accord, wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air supply. Choking, he felt the metal of the fingers flex tighter, constricting into him, biting into his skin. At this point in the dream, he would normally wake up, breath razoring in and out, drenched in a cold sweat. But the nightmare continued. 

“Once I’m back in charge, I am going to have so much fun.” Over the sound of his panicked gasps for breath, Rhys heard Jack whispering, the sound raking across his nerves. “Ooooh, baby. I can’t wait. Hey, maybe I’ll pay Fiona a visit. I remember how much you liked her. God, she was cute. I’ve always been a sucker for chick in a hat.”

A strangled gasp escaped Rhys, though he’d desperately tried not to react. 

“Hey, buddy, I knew you’d like that idea!” Jack said brightly. “Now, you can rest assured, my friend. I will take excellent care of her for you. I guarantee to show her a good time, and,” his voice abruptly turned to a sneer, “ I promise to make sure you’re completely aware of every little detail, especially when I use your hands to choke the life out of her.”

With an anguished cry, Rhys fought with renewed purpose. He pushed back with everything he had; trying to loosen the hold Jack possessed inside his mind and body; trying to shut out the discordant hum of Jack’s disgusting litany; trying to pry off the fingers that were locked around his throat.

Dimly, on the outer fringes of his awareness, there was a change, a shift in the atmosphere. The shadows of his dreamscape lightened. A new presence hovered behind him, one that spoke with a voice that was familiar and inviting. Jack simply disappeared; his grip, both physical and mental, evaporating at the sweet sound. 

Soothed, Rhys felt his body begin to relax, his hand falling away from his neck, his breathing returning to normal. A weight settled on his arm, comforting and warm. Sensing safety, he instinctively turned towards this new presence and pulled it closer. Wrapped in his arms, he embraced it, tucking it into him, wanting to cherish it. He sighed in relief, feeling content and appeased in its glow. Calm at last, his nightmare receded fully and he fell deeper into sleep, snug and happy. 

* * *

Fiona awoke with a start. Disoriented, she looked around, trying to gain her bearings. The room was mostly dark except for a dim line of light running along the edges of the ceiling. A blurred memory of the past few days brought sudden understanding and she relaxed. She flipped over to find a more comfortable position and settled down again. Floating on the edge of sleep, she heard a peculiar noise that pulled her swiftly back to reality. Her eyes flicked open and she waited, wondering if the sound would return. There it was again. Curious, she sat up and leaned over the side of her bed. Below her, in the dark recess of the bottom bunk came an almost painful moan. Realizing what, or rather who, the source must be, irritation was her initial reaction. She had been sleeping pretty peacefully before he started making noise, dammit. 

“Rhys?” she whispered harshly. 

A whimper was the only reply. 

He must be in the middle of a nightmare, she concluded. Unexpectedly, she was reminded of her childhood. While growing up, Sasha would suffer from frequent night terrors. So many times, she would be awakened in the middle of the night by her baby sister’s shrieks of fright. Fiona would then have to hold and sing to her until she quieted again. 

“Hey, Rhys?” she spoke a little louder, her tone milder, hoping to jolt him awake. 

When he let out another tiny pitiful whine, she couldn’t help it; her heart softened. Momentarily, she had considered ignoring him, leaving him to fight his own demons, whatever they may be, but she felt certain she wouldn’t be able to relax knowing he was in such discomfort.

With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and gently lowered her feet to the floor. Her hands on her knees, she bent down and peered into the shadows. She could just barely make out the shape of him. His back was to her; his body nearly flush with the wall. He jerked in his sleep, a quick spasm. Filled with compassion, she sat down on the side of the bed.

“Rhys,” she murmured in a soothing, gentle voice, “It’s just a bad dream. It’s not real. You can relax.”

She set her hand on his arm, compelled to touch him, to comfort him. “It’s not real,” she repeated, “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

The tension that had radiated through him abated as he let out an exhale. His cybernetic hand appeared, the material catching and reflecting a glimmer of light, and came to rest upon hers. The contact made her smile, gratified she had helped put him at ease. 

Suddenly, he was moving, turning to face her. As he shifted, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down. Before she could react, his arms encircled her, drawing her against him as he finished rolling over. Shocked at the new position in which she found herself, Fiona tensed. His left arm was under her head, the fingers of his hand she could feel curling softly into her hair. The crook of his right arm lay heavy on her hip as his forearm curved around her back. The idiot had effectively trapped her here, and she wasn’t even sure if he was awake!

‘What in the hell?’ she thought, annoyance flashing through her. Her nose was squished against his chest and her arms were tucked between them. She struggled and managed to move her face so she wasn’t being suffocated but as she shifted, his arms tightened.

“Rhys?” She said his name hoping that he would come to his senses and release her. His deep sigh of contentment dashed all hopes of that. Dammit. 

She felt his breath flutter through her hair, and a shiver tingled down her spine. Realizing that she was holding her own breath, she left it out. As she inhaled, the scent of him filled her lungs, weakening her. She was embarrassed by her reaction, her skin warming in a blush. God, why did he have to smell so good? 

“Rhys? Are you awake?” she asked. “C’mon, let me go.”

He didn’t reply. Assuming he was still asleep, Fiona saw an opportunity to save herself from further awkwardness.Trying to gently push him away so she could make her escape without waking him, she spread her hands out, her fingers brushing along the fabric of his shirt. She forced herself to ignore the heat and the firmness of his chest and how the contact sent a hum of awareness sizzling through her. Applying pressure, she managed to nudge him back just a bit before his right arm constricted around her back, dragging her even closer against him than before. 

“Stay,” he mumbled against her hair. 

Fiona could feel the beat of his heart beneath her hands, steady and strong. Her determination to escape faltered. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said quietly, not sure if she was trying to convince him or her. 

“Please... Need you.” 

Her eyes widened at his words, her heart fluttering. Instinctively, she attempted to shift back again to look at him. She had to know if he was awake and aware of what he’d said. But he had her head tucked under his chin and his arms were like a tender vice, restricting her movements to no more than a couple of inches. 

Finally accepting that her efforts were futile, she submitted. She supposed she would just have to lie here until he relented and loosened his grip. When did he get so strong anyway? It made no sense. The man was a bean pole. 

“Fine,” she grumbled, “you win. For now.” 

Puffing out her breath, she resigned herself to her thoughts. Naturally, she came back to his last words, ‘need you.’ She wanted to ignore what he’d said, knew she should dismiss it. There was a chance he had just been talking in his sleep or to a dream, and not to her. Or maybe he hadn’t said anything at all and she had just misinterpreted one of his groans. 

But the sharp, bright happiness that shimmered through her at the idea that he was asking _her_ to stay, saying that he needed _her_ was so intense, it gave her pause. It was troubling, this new development. 

She pushed the thoughts away, deciding to worry about it later. Right now, the heady mixture of his scent, the warmth their bodies generated, the feel of him beneath her hands, and his arms around her were all proving to be too much for her to resist. Sleep beckoned, weighing her down. Lulled, she made up her mind that she could indulge in a tiny nap, but she would definitely have to wake up and return to her own bed before he realized she had ever been there. Without a second thought, she snuggled closer to him. He hummed a soft note of pleasure. Her cheek pressed against a button on his shirt, causing a flash of irritated discomfort. Half asleep, she quickly unbuttoned it and two more for good measure. She slid the fabric away, revealing his bare skin beneath. Satisfied, she returned her cheek to his chest; her arm wrapping around his back. Finally contented, she fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

* * *

Rhys hovered on the precipice of waking. He knew he probably should open his eyes and get ready to face the day. But the weightlessness of sleep was too intoxicating to deny. Holding onto it a little longer but aware that he was nearing full consciousness, he luxuriated in the sensation of resting. He was completely at peace, wrapped tightly in a warmth that spread down his back, over his legs and looped around his hip to his chest. The only problem was his shoulder wasn’t covered and a chill had crept over him, threatening to force him awake sooner than he wanted.  
Trying to snuggle deeper into that comforting warmth, Rhys shifted and his hand brushed something entirely unexpected. Now fully conscious but a little muddled, his eyes opened. He held himself still, uncertain as to what he was going to find coiled around his waist. Hesitantly, he tilted his head, his eyes traveling down. He blinked at the sight, relieved but confused. 

Somehow during the night, probably while having that awful nightmare, his shirt had come unbuttoned a bit more than he remembered. But what was truly baffling was the small, delicate hand that was pressed flat against his chest, its turquoise-tipped fingers spread slightly. Still a little out of it, he followed from the hand, up to the wrist, then to the forearm that trailed under his own arm and around him before continuing on behind his back. Returning his eyes to the hand, abruptly something registered: turquoise nails. 

Fiona was wearing turquoise polish. That meant that this hand belonged to Fiona. And if it was Fiona’s hand that was flush against his chest, then the soft contented sigh he heard and the gentle pressure against his back must mean that she was… 

Panic and arousal bloomed within him like a flower. Oh no, how did he get himself into this mess?

He scrambled to understand, retracing the events of the previous night. He distinctly remembered watching her flop onto the upper portion of the bunk bed. Glancing up, he confirmed that he was, indeed, on the bottom of the two bunks. So he wasn’t in her bed; but rather, she was in his. 

But why? She didn’t seem to like him all that much, no accounting for taste. So what would possess her to leave her own bed and join him? And why was she cocooned around him like this? He sensed from the cycled flutter of air that tickled his skin through the fabric of his shirt that she must have her cheek squished up against his back. Her legs were in a tangle with his, the rough pad of her foot resting on top of his own. 

He was completely at a loss as to how this situation had come to be but he was certain that it was vital for him to remove himself immediately. Worse-case scenarios of her reaction to waking up next to him played through his mind and his stomach twisted into knots. His fears weren’t necessarily unfounded considering what had happened the last time they had fallen asleep without a safe distance between them. He could still remember the look of utter disgust on her face when she discovered they had been sleeping propped against each other, his head resting on her shoulder, and hers likewise on his. She had promptly scooted away and spit on him in response. Not exactly a scene he would like to repeat; and definitely not one that inspired confidence in his current predicament.

Taking a deep breath to ease his racing heart, he plotted out his best way to escape. As of right now, he was trapped, his exit blocked by her body on the other side of him. Glancing down, he dismissed the idea of sneaking out the foot of the bed as the wall was too close to its edge, leaving no room to maneuver. He decided his only choice was to somehow climb over her, hopefully without waking her. 

His mind made up, he slowly and very gently began to shift his position to his back, giving Fiona time to adjust naturally around him. As he’d moved, her hand remained pressed against his chest, her fingers burning a trail of fire across his skin with each minor readjustment. He paused, waiting with bated breath to see if she had been roused. When no indication came, he felt safe to progress. With the lightest touch, he took her wrist in his grasp and transferred her hand away. 

With the greatest possible care, he rolled to his left and pulled his elbow underneath his body, propping himself up. Again, he paused. Again, no response. Now he was ready to tackle the final and most dangerous portion of his escape plan. 

He turned to his stomach, then rose on his hands and knees. From this elevated position, he could see Fiona was stationed directly in the middle of the bed, his own sleeping space a sliver carved out near the wall. She lay on her back now, face tilted in his direction. One hand rested on her stomach, the other was balled into a loose fist at her shoulder. 

Imagining that fist tightening and sailing at his face, which would surely be her initial reaction to waking up with some figure looming over her, spurned him into action. Glancing over to the edge of the bed, the side that would lead to freedom, he saw there was just enough room for him to be able to safely move over her. ‘Here goes nothing.’ he thought. 

First, his hand. He applied pressure to it, depressing against the mattress, hoping to ease Fiona into the new distribution of weight. 

Next, his right knee. Now this was the trickiest part by far, because he was essentially straddling her. He held his breath, as he paused for the weight to adjust. He tried to ignore the reality of her laying below him, and was just focusing on holding his position for another heartbeat, when an unshakable image popped into his head, searing itself onto his imagination. He could see her in his mind: her wrists trapped beneath his hands, brilliant green eyes burning with desire as she gazed up at him, her body straining forward for a kiss.

‘Nope, nope, nope. Now is not the time. Don’t think about it,’ he warned. 

A bit rattled, he pushed the image away and carried his left knee over followed by his other hand. A quick glance informed him she was still fast asleep. Letting out the breath he’d been holding, a sense of relief washed through him. He’d done it! He’d managed to escape without waking her. Sitting back on his heels, he took a couple more soothing, deep breaths. 

A rustle of fabric caught his attention. She continued to rest and was simply lengthening out her arm, the back of her hand brushing through the space he had just vacated. 

Now that he was safely liberated, he took a moment to appreciate this rarity, her at peace. She wasn’t snarking at him, or rolling her eyes, or smiling suspiciously as she cooked up some new way to piss him off. Frankly, it was hard to imagine this stunning vision beside him was the same tough-as-nails, tenacious ass-kicker he had come to admire. 

His heart clenched at her beauty. Her face was relaxed; her eyes shut, lips parted ever so slightly. She looked so delicate; he was captivated. His breath caught as he realized just how vulnerable she truly was. Filled with a protective affection, he wanted to touch her. Tenderly, he brushed aside the strands of hair that rest upon her cheek. Her skin was so soft. Suddenly overtaken by an amorous need, he knew that a simple caress wasn’t enough.

He was risking life and limb but couldn’t talk himself out of it. Leaning closer to her, he closed his eyes and lightly pressed his lips to the silky surface of her cheek.

“Rhys?” 

A punch of panic surged through him at the soft sound of his name spoken aloud. Bolting upright, he momentarily glimpsed Fiona blinking away the sleep that clouded her eyes before his head connected with the bed frame that supported the top bunk, knocking him senseless. Unable to correct himself, he lost his balance and toppled over the edge of the bed, hitting the floor with a thud. Clutching his head, excruciating pain radiated through his entire skull. A lesser ache blossomed through the hip and elbow he’d landed on. 

He could hear Fiona’s voice saying his name over the throb of his pulse in his ears. The initial agony slowly subsiding, he groaned and managed to sit up. She was on her knees in front of him, concern written in the frown on her face. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened?” 

Not entirely sure how to explain himself and still a little winded from his tumble, he hesitated, “Eh, good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” she said, her brows raised at the casual tone he was trying for. “Why are you on the floor? What’s going on?”

Embarrassed, he hastily blurted in return, “Why were you in my bed?” 

“What?” A look of flustered guilt flashed over her expression before being quickly replaced with one of mild irritation. “You mean you don’t remember snatching me up and trapping me there?” 

Confused, he replied, “No. But I can’t imagine I somehow ensnared you, dragged you out of your bunk and into mine while unconscious. I do, however, remember waking up to find you wrapped around me, all warm and cozy.” 

Her eyes widen and her cheeks flushed to a rosy shade. “ You’re lying,” she snapped. Grumbling, she tried to get to her feet. “Next time, I’ll just let you wallow alone in your nightmares. See if I care when you wake yourself up screaming.”

He was startled by her words. 

“Wait, Fi.” He caught her arm, stopping her. “You know about the nightmare?” 

“Yes, you moron.” She sighed, relaxing the tension that had crept into her posture. “You woke me up whining in your sleep. And when you wouldn’t stop, I sat down with you and tried to talk you through it. Then you grabbed and trapped me. You would barely let me move an inch. I was waiting for you to relax again so I could get away but I must have fallen asleep.” 

He smiled as warmth flooded through him. His heart beat a little harder when he caught her glance. She quickly looked away and attempted to get to her feet. Again, he halted her. 

“Thanks, Fiona.” he said softly, “I-- I really appreciate it.” 

“Yeah. Uh. Don’t mention it.” She shrugged; the tips of her ears pinkening. She ran her fingers through her bangs and tilted her head. “So are you going to tell me why I woke up to you kissing me?” 

Panic crashed through him like a bucket of cold water. Flustered, he stammered. “Wha-- I didn’t-- I wasn’t-- That’s insane. Where did you come up with that?” 

“C’mon, Rhys. Just admit it.” She smiled wickedly at his evident embarrassment, “You planted a smooch right on my cheek when you thought I was fast asleep. Why?” Suddenly, she clasped her hands together at her chest, and batted her eyelashes. “Were you acting out a childhood fantasy of waking the cursed princess from her eternal slumber with true love’s kiss?” 

Stupidly, his heart skipped a beat at the word ‘love’.

“You’re hardly a princess,” he scoffed, “More like the terrifying fire-breathing dragon.”

Pulling a face of mock offense, she punched him lightly on the arm. “How dare you? I am clearly the heroic knight of the story.” She grinned. ”I’ve saved your damsely ass quite a few times.”

He rolled his eyes at her, a grin of his own spreading.

“But seriously, why did you kiss me?” she asked again, her expression settling into one of amused curiosity.

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a dream?” he teased, hoping to deflect her. “I mean, you were snuggled up to me pretty tightly just shortly before that. It might have been your subconscious playing tricks on you.” 

She was silent for a moment before she said, “I felt you kiss me, Rhys.” Her eyes locked with his, all traces of amusement gone. “I want to know why,” she quietly demanded. 

He swallowed hard. She was not going to let this go, so he had to come up with something. Suddenly, he wished their roles in life were reversed, that he was the skilled liar, con artist extraordinaire, able to spin some yarn that would convince her of whatever he wanted her to believe. But all he had was the truth. If he told her anything else, he was certain she would see right through it.

“I kissed you,” he paused as he tried to pick his words carefully, “because, in that moment, Fiona, I couldn’t resist.”

Her eyes widened. Uncertainty chewed through his gut. He needed to clarify, not only to her, but to himself what he’d meant. Nerves getting the better of him, he could hear himself start to babble as his fingers fidgeted. “You were lying there; and you looked so peaceful and beautiful; and I just kept thinking about how you must trust me a lot if you could sleep so easily, and how good that felt to think that you could trust me; and how warm and comforting it had been to wake up with you holding me; and your skin looked so soft and felt so smooth when I brushed your hair away, and I just couldn’t stop myself from---” 

He probably would have continued forever if Fiona hadn’t closed the space between them, her hands coming up to cradle his face. His words trailed off, his mind going blank. Her gaze was locked with his. 

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” she whispered. His heartbeat tripped. 

“I can’t resist,” she exhaled against his lips.

His eyes fluttered closed as she kissed him softly. 

His breath caught as she pulled away. He trailed after her, so desperate for more. She tilted her head and kissed him from a different angle, lingering a little longer. 

She was teasing him, rubbing her lips tenderly against his before retreating again. He let her play, meeting her kiss for kiss. She flirted with him, tempting him in a little more with each silky brush, until he simply couldn’t endure any longer. 

His hands had come to rest on her arms as he’d settled into their give and take. Now, in search of more, he ran his fingers along her shell of her ear, down the curve of her jaw, and as she came in for another kiss, he gently cupped her chin urging her to stay. She obliged, her lips meeting his, hands sliding to rest on his shoulders. Encouraged, he traced his tongue against the swell of her lower lip before taking it between his own, nibbling at her. She moaned, pressing closer into him; her arms wrapping around his neck, hands in his hair.

A sharp bite of pain knifed through his skull as her fingers came in contact with the swollen lump on his head. Retreating from her, he inhaled sharply. 

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” she asked, apprehension lighting her eyes. 

“Yeah.” He was touched by her concern. “I’ll live. But I think our next sleepover should include less head trauma, especially if you are going to be kissing me like that.” 

“Our next sleepover?” she asked, amused.

He grinned sheepishly. 

“Come here.” she said, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and slowly pulling him in. “I promise to be gentle.”

He was expecting another tender kiss. Instead she leaned into him, her lips coming to his ear. Her breath tickled against the sensitive skin of his earlobe, sending a tingle through him. 

Softly, she whispered, “For now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my friend! Thank you for reading my one-shot. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I really wanted to put together something for my favorite ship and one of my favorite tropes. I had originally planned to end this story with Fiona falling asleep in Rhys' arms. But as I was writing my second draft, I thought to myself what's a bed sharing fic without an awkward morning after.  
This was my first attempt writing something tense and uncomfortable (the nightmare scene). I am finding my legs with these one-shots before I tackle something longer, which leads me to my next announcement!  
I am going to start focusing my writing efforts on a multi-chapter fic next. So please stay tuned for that!  
You can find me on Tumblr at https://admiralsweko.tumblr.com/  
Please feel free to stop by and chat, ask questions, send encouragement, bounce ideas around, or whatever. I'd love to talk about this ship, current and future fics, and personal headcannons with you. Hope to see you soon.


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